


i have kissed you for the last time

by mm_nani



Series: windmills of your mind [3]
Category: Football RPF
Genre: Bittersweet, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post Bayern loss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-05
Updated: 2017-11-05
Packaged: 2019-01-29 18:18:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12636561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mm_nani/pseuds/mm_nani
Summary: After losing the Klassiker at home, Auba and Marco reconnect.





	i have kissed you for the last time

**Author's Note:**

  * For [flamingosarepink](https://archiveofourown.org/users/flamingosarepink/gifts).



> Set in the same universe as [ne me quitte pas](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11831634). This is set before they divorce but its in the thick of their marriage problems and well BVB has handed me the perfect angst recipe by playing how they've been playing.
> 
> This is written for flamingosarepink but also by flamingosarepink because the headacannons are almost all entirely hers. I'm just the lucky gal who got to hear her brilliant ideas and write them. 
> 
> title from: [Visions of Gideon](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NJLs-4J5ZYk) by Sufjan Stevens

Chances after chances missed.

 

Auba feels a deep sense of numbness even has he’s walking off the field. Overheated from the exertion, the shame, Lewy’s fingers resting softly against his neck had felt far from consoling.

 

Auba doesn’t remember what he had said to Lewy. Was there anything left to say? In a way he’s used to loss, in another the wound keeps cutting deeper and deeper inside. He can only hope that whatever he had said was something courteous and appropriate. But Lewy could have accused him of anything and Auba would have been defenseless.

 

The cold shower numbs his body down too, until he’s unable to feel anything more. He dresses in what he finds first, his training tracks, he can dress as smartly or poorly as he wants but he can’t escape the disappointed look of a loser that he’s accessorizing with right now. A rush of self hatred grips him and even his shame is unable to warm his numb cheeks.

 

Auba dreads when he sees Marco from a distance, waiting by his car for him. He doesn’t know what mood he’s going to find Marco in. It has been difficult to understand who Marco will be these days. After the summer, connecting with Marco has been painstakingly difficult. Like running down an open field towards a sure goal and being suddenly blocked and overwhelmed by  Niklas Süle

 

Marco has not been unkind after their growing number of losses but he is often prickly and frustrated. Auba understands, he is too. Their form doesn’t help the distance that keeps growing bigger each night between them but it’s not causing it either.

 

But the Marco he finds is soft, sympathetic and kind. Auba falls into his arms and finds the prickles of warmth running up his spine, a feeling blossoming in the pit of his stomach. He doesn’t know what he’ll end up feeling. Maybe it will be a deep despair or gut wrenching sorrow but he knows it will be better than the emptiness of hopelessness, of feeling completely hollow and bereft of a soul that rings only in faint nostalgia.

 

Marco’s fingers running through his hair fills him with substance.

 

The get in the car silently and Auba is so grateful. There’s nothing left to say and he doesn’t want to struggle with words right now. Auba stares out the window at the memorized scenery outside but he can feel Marco’s gaze on him from time to time as Marco drives them home. 

 

They stop at a red light and the air strains with the heaviness of the silence, like words are trying to escape them to fill it. In the end, Marco only reaches over to caress the side of his face before they’re off again, the engine a quiet purr around them.

 

Neither moves when Marco pulls into their garage. It feels like he’s stuck, like once he leaves the car he’ll feel everything he’s not allowed himself to feel in the last couple of hours, weeks, months.

 

It feels like an eternity passes before Marco finally turns the engine off.

 

‘I’m sorry.’ Marco breathes, quiet. 

 

Marco is apologizing and Auba doesn’t know for what. He can’t tell if Marco knows either.

 

But Marco is apologizing.

 

And Auba wants to forgive him.

 

Auba wants to forgive.

 

Auba wants to forgive himself.

 

He’s pulling Marco in or Marco is pulling him in. Either way they end up in each other’s space, foreheads pressed against each other. Marco kisses the side of his head before guiding Auba’s face into his neck.

 

Finally, finally Auba can let go.

 

He cries and Marco’s skin catches his tears.

 

Auba feels thoroughly empty when he finally stops, the inside of the car muggy and damp, but it feels good, feels different from being carved hollow. 

 

They walk hand in hand towards the house and Auba feels choked for a completely different reason. He feels choked with desire. 

 

For Marco’s hand in his.

 

For Marco’s body.

 

For Marco’s lips.

 

For Marco’s warmth.

 

For Marco.

 

Marco tells him to rest while he prepares their dinner. Auba offers to help but Marco reassures him that everything is in the slowcooker already, he’s just going to serve. 

 

Marco brings out two plates of the beef stew that Auba loves, that Marco had painstakingly learned from Auba’s father during happier times, a happier summer. When he’d first made it Marco had asked him if he had gotten close.

 

He hadn’t but Auba couldn’t explain with words how favorite foods weren’t flavors, they were feelings and they were memories. And Marco’s was his favorite too. Auba had replied with a simple ‘yes’ and Marco had been ecstatic.

 

‘You know we can’t eat this.’ Auba says and adds scoffingly, ‘was it meant to be a celebration?’

 

‘It was meant to be for you. I wanted to break the rules for you because you deserve it,’ Marco says, putting the plates down on the coffee table. He brushes his knuckles across Auba’s forehead and down his cheeks with a softness in his eyes that Auba has missed. 

 

They eat in silence. Marco giggles when Auba licks the spoon. When Marco gets up to clean up, Auba holds him back with one hand, unthinkingly he caresses Marco’s knee, feels the outline of the taping underneath his jeans.

 

‘I’ll load the dishwasher.’ He says, finally detaching himself.

 

When he’s done, Marco takes his hand again and leads him towards their bedroom. Auba feels a little warmer now, close to the temperature he remembers his body used to be. Marco’s hands travel up his back underneath his shirt and it’s the most natural thing when Marco pulls it off him. Marco pulling off his own shirt is also the only logical next step. 

 

Marco undresses him slowly on their bed, caressing his legs as he pulls down his tracks and then each sock one by one. Marco urges Auba to turn around onto his stomach when they’re both just in their undershorts. He runs both his hands up Auba’s back, applying the slightest pressure.

 

‘Are you giving me a massage?’ Auba asks, a little stupidly but he’s happy at Marco’s chuckle from on top of him.

 

‘Did you want something else?’ Marco says, voice teasing. Auba had missed this too.

 

‘I was expecting a different sort of massage.’ Auba teases.

 

Marco laughs again and Auba wants the sound to never stop, ‘that can happen too. For now, I just-’ Marco lets out a long sigh, ‘I just want to do this.’ He continues running his hands up and down Auba’s back, pushing at his knots and gently runs his fingers over the knobs of his spine. Auba shudders when Marco kisses each shoulder blade softly then follows the path down Auba’s spine with his mouth. Auba is awash with anticipation when Marco’s lips reach lower and lower towards the waistband of his boxers but is left disappointed when Marco pulls away to start massaging his thigh.

 

‘I just want to take care of you.’ Marco says as he uses his thumb to create pressure and kneads to relieve tension, ‘is there a particular thing you want me to focus on? Anything you want?’ Marco asks.

 

‘You can keep talking. I like it when you talk to me.’ Auba feels the shift in the easy atmosphere immediately. For one, Marco goes silent but he doesn’t stop kneading Auba’s thigh. Auba hadn’t meant to bring up the long stretches of silence that’s become common between them but he can’t bring himself to regret it. Marco had wanted complete honesty from him after all.

 

‘It’s hard when you try your best and-,’ Marco finally says but then pauses completely, moving away from Auba. Auba waits with bated breath. Marco comes back to him with a gentle kiss on the backs of each of Auba’s knee. Marco moves down to massage his calves and ankles, ‘-and still fail,’ Marco finishes softly. Marco manipulates his ankle in a way that he could have only learned from physio.

 

‘Do you think I have a career in physiotherapy?’ Marco asks when Auba moans out particularly long and satisfied. It’s Auba’s turn to laugh, a giddy crazed sound, a reaction to the sound of Marco’s voice.

 

‘Yes, you’re very good, my friend.’

 

‘See? I’ve been learning a lot in the long months I spend in rehabilitation.’

 

‘Do they kiss you there too?’ That earns him a slap on the butt. Marco turns him onto his back again and if Auba was being honest, he likes being manhandled like this. 

 

‘Is that a problem?’ Marco challenges with a pinch to his nipples.

 

‘Not if it gets you back on the pitch sooner.’ Auba responds, serious. Marco falters a little at Auba’s sincerity, at the intensity of his gaze. Auba takes both of Marco’s hands in his and pulls him down. Marco comes to him with a jolt, landing unceremoniously on top of him.

 

Auba wants to kiss him already, they’ve built up to it the entire night. Auba can’t remember the last time they’d kissed, the last time he’d touched Marco so freely. And Auba can’t hold it in anymore.

 

But Marco pulls away when Auba tries to kiss him, ‘you don’t need me, you know?’ Marco says, ‘you-all of you-play brilliantly without me.’

 

Long rants and protests run through Auba’s mind. Praises, accolades and a step by step recall of every time Marco has been integral to Auba’s personal and the team’s overall success. 

 

But he needs to kiss Marco  _ now. _

 

‘I always need you.’ Auba responds quickly before slotting their lips together. This time, it’s his hands running down Marco’s body, pushing the boxer past Marco’s narrow hips. He grabs fistfuls of Marco’s ass as Marco delves deeper into his mouth.

 

Under the fervent caresses of Marco’s tongue, Auba finally thaws.

**Author's Note:**

> im in a lot of pain. come yell at me on [tumblr.](https://manaholic-mongolian.tumblr.com/) It is very late where I live and I kind of just published this cause i couldn't take it anymore...so i apologize for the million typos that im sure are there.


End file.
